


Macky's Back in Town

by Lucky107



Series: Pride and Disgrace [6]
Category: Fallout 2
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Mild Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9493784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: Her world swims briefly before fading to black.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Mack the Knife - Bobby Darin - 1959

_Crack!_

There's a bright flash and for a split second, time stops.

Aslaug doesn't even think; knowing full-well the bullet is coming right at her, her fingertips ghost the steel grip of the gun Myron is carrying.  If she can just—

_Crack!_

Searing hot pain rips through her shoulder, burning like fire in her veins.  Her world swims briefly before fading to black.

 

Aslaug comes to feeling sluggish and heavy.  Her body disobeys her brain - every instincts tell her to _run_ , but she doesn't.  She can't.  She slumps forward when she tries.  She wouldn't even be sitting upright if it weren't for Myron's constant support around her back and middle.

He's small in her shadow, but he's gotten a lot stronger since the last time they were in New Reno.

"H-h-h-hey!"  He shouts, just trying to keep Aslaug's eyes open.  Everything hurts; it's impossible to tell exactly where the bullet struck her, but it must have been near the left are - when she tries to flex her hand, she can't feel a damn thing.  "Just tell me what to do, I—"

"—an exit wound."

Myron goes quiet - he's checking, leaning over to scope her back for an exit wound - and then he shakes his head.  "Nothing.  Nada.  Zilch."

"I can't—" Aslaug groans.  It's a fight just to get her back on her feet, and she's got an arm around Myron's shoulder the entire time.  She'll never admit to it, but she wouldn't be going anywhere if it weren't for him.

But time is of the essence.

The nerve is shot, Aslaug is certain of that.  She needs surgery to remove the bullet in order for the nerves to even attempt a proper recovery, but treatment will be impossible without at least two steady hands and a level head.  Right now, there's neither between them.

With grimace, Aslaug hisses, "... Miss Kitty."

\- - -

"Kitty!"

It's Myron hollering her name, so Miss Kitty doesn't even move from her seat.  "How many times must I tell you—"  But the door is nearly knocked right off its hinges in haste.  "—Aslaug?"

"Gunshot," Myron relays.  "Big Jesus Mordino.  I-I've given her a couple of stimpaks, b-b-but she wants the bullet out."

Miss Kitty wastes no time in shouting for Sheb who, despite his flashy appearance and seemingly dim wit, has little trouble relieving Myron of the burden.  Sheb all but carries Aslaug into one of the girls' rooms and they scatter, buzzing around like flies in a dangerous mixture of excitement and confusion.

Once Aslaug is on a cot, Myron catches her searching hand.

"Talk to her," Miss Kitty says.  "Keep her awake for me.  Sheb, I need you to fetch Stuart from the Jungle Gym.  I don't know if he's handled anything like this before, but he's bound to have some advice on stemming the blood flow once we start digging.  I'm going to fetch one of my girls; she's a very skilled seamstress."

Myron pales at the thought of one of Miss Kitty's prostitutes stitching up the skin with a sewing kit, but he does as he's told as Miss Kitty prepares the room for surgery.

It's going to be a long night.

\- - -

When Miss Kitty returns with one of her girls in tow, she announces, "She's in here."  Stuart Little and Sheb are close behind and Miss Kitty closes the door at their back in haste.  Most of her girls have never seen blood beyond their own menstrual cycle and she intends to keep it that way.

Stuart rushes to Aslaug's side, inspecting the wound for only a moment.  "Sheesh, kid.  Awright, look: I'll do what I can to fish 'er out, but I can't make no promises.  Never done nothin' like this before."

"Please."  Aslaug hisses, her face twisting into a grimace.

The last time he remembers seeing her this desperate, she was wheezing past two broken ribs in a bid to get back into the ring.  Now she's lied out on a whore's cot, shoulder oozing with each stuttering breath.  She's his prizefighter, all right—and if she loses use of that arm, her fighting days are over.

"Tweezers," Stuart calls before he's leaning over Aslaug to gage the depth of the hole.  "You might wanna hold onto somethin' now, darlin'.  This is gonna hurt - bad."

But Aslaug's no fool.

When Stuart opens the hole to work the tweezers inside, she crushes Myron's hand without even trying.  The force doesn't quite break his fingers, but it's damn close and Myron vocalizes the holler that catches in Aslaug's throat.  Her legs thrash wildly beneath Sheb's effort to restrain her for the duration of Stuart's makeshift operation.

It doesn't take more than a minute, but each second feels like an eternity and before Stuart even manages to locate the bullet, Aslaug is gone.

\- - -

Waking up sluggish and heavy brings on a sense of déjà vu, but she comes to much more slowly without the grating drone of Myron's voice.  A dull throb in her left shoulder is her first indication that the surgery is over, though she still can't wiggle her fingers.  At least she's been given a _chance_ to recover.

"Hm?"  From the bedside, the sleeping Myron stirs.  "You awake?"

"Think so," Aslaug says, voice raspy and weak.  She squeezes Myron's hand before shifting her eyes in his direction.  The room is light now - it's probably closer to midday, but it feels like the middle of the night on account of the exhaustion.  "... Is it over?"

"Yeah... yeah," Myron confirms slowly, still trying to wake himself up.  There's a moment of thoughtful silence before he throws himself over her and hugs onto her neck like a small child.  "You could've _died_ , Aslaug."

It takes a moment for Aslaug to adjust to the pain, but once Myron settles, so does the pain.  "... you _would have_ died."

And it's true: Myron would have died had he taken the shot.  Big Jesus Mordino had no quarrel with Aslaug - when he pulled that gun on them, he fully intended to shoot Myron dead for robbing the Desperado.  That entire situation was all on Myron.  "B-but you took a _bullet_ for me.  I-I-I don't know _why_ , but—"

"A promise..." Aslaug murmurs, her tired eyes fluttering closed.  "... I won't _let_ you die."


End file.
